


The Captain and the Princess

by sailorboo



Category: Star Wars Rebels
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Kanan/Hera, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of War, Non-Canon History of Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Non-Canon History of Lasan, Non-Canon Relationship with OC, OCs - Freeform, Pain of Loss, Season 2 spoilers, Spoilers, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorboo/pseuds/sailorboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the events of 'The Legends of the Lasat' (S02E12), the crew of the Ghost land on a busy space port, hoping to buy supplies from a smuggler.</p><p>Instead, they find a familiar — and previously thought, 'dead' — face from Garazeb 'Zeb' Orrelios' past.</p><p>Shenanigans ensue and memories, pleasant and painful, are recalled and shared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Familar Faces Pt:1

**Author's Note:**

> HI.
> 
> This is my first time, in a long time, uploading a ff to the public (Eek!). So please be gentle, and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! Also if you spot any grammatical or punctuation errors, let me know!
> 
> \--------------------
> 
> SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT SEEN ANY OF THE NEW EPISODES.
> 
> \--------------------
> 
> I am a huge fan of Zeb — who doesn't find that giant cat-monkey adorable — and was THRILLED when his history, and that of the Lasat were expanded in 'The Legends of the Lasat'. I was especially excited to hear that there was a Royal Family on Lasan, and that Zeb was tasked with protecting them.
> 
> Being a cheesy, and unoriginal romantic, I am a big fan of stories involving soldiers/knights falling in love and having relationships with royalty. *eyebrow wiggle*
> 
> And plus, Zeb needs some loving okay. He's adorable.
> 
> Also title is very, very unoriginal and I am sorry. Titles are not my forte.

"Are you sure about this, Kanan?" Sabine asked through her vibrantly coloured helmet. She placed a hand on her hip as she, Kanan and Zeb exited the Ghost through the loading door and onto the expansive, bustling space station’s dock.

The space dock, located in the outer rim territories, far from the prying hands of the Empire’s elite, was filled to the brim with ships of all types, shapes and sizes. From small fighter ships that carried a lone pilot, to the largo cargo holds that could easily fit an entire army’s worth of food, artillery weapons and gear. Not only were the ships diverse, but so were the pilots and crews that maintained them. Humans and aliens alike, all from different races, mingled, conversed and argued with one another. 

It was the perfect place to hide in plain sight — for both the rebels, and their mysterious, and potential, supplier.

Kanan sighed and looked at the young Mandalorian woman from over his shoulder. "Not really, no, but Commander Sato makes a valid point – we need these supplies," Kanan replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It's worth the risk."

"Is it really though?" Sabine continued, quickening her pace till she matched his stride. "I mean, we don't even know who the smuggler is or what they look like. All we know is that their ship has a 'red cross' on its left wing. Doesn't that sound even a little suspicious to you?"

A loud snort from behind caused both humans to turn to their Lasat companion. "Yeah, but can you blame them for being cautious?" Zeb said, arms folded across his chest. "Every Stormtrooper and their mother are out in force, hunting down any leads to the rebellion. I'd keep my identity a secret if it meant avoiding the Empire."

“Too bad your smell would blow your cover," a crackled voice laughed in their ears.

“Get off the emergency frequency, Spectre Six,” Kanan growled softly as he flashed Zeb a silent look, urging him not to retaliate. Reading the threat in the jedi’s stare, the lasat grunted and rolled his eyes.

“Right! Sorry!” Ezra said with a weak chuckle before his connection to the com-link was muted with an electronic click:

"But what if it's a trap?" Sabine stressed again, her gaze still focused on Kanan. "What if the seller is an informant for the Empire? This could be a trap."

"It's possible," Kanan admitted with a nod as he sidestepped a man carrying a large crate, "But like I said, if this turns out in our favour, then it is worth the risk.

Sabine let out a grunt and slowed her pace until she was back at Zeb's side. "Fine, but don't come crying to me if it all goes to sh—"

Suddenly, the sound of blaster fire and screams of fright caught their attention. Each of the rebels reached for their weapons without a second thought, their eyes darting around the room, looking for the source of the commotion. Across the busy dock, half-hidden behind a large cargo ship were several Stormtroopers, shooting and shouting to one another as they pursued a swift-footed, cloaked figure on foot. The figure moved fast through the crowd, swerving and weaving through the densely populated sections with ease. Not far behind were the Stormtroopers, who pushed and shoved innocent bystanders out of the way as they chased after the mysterious, cloaked figure. Watchers and bystanders cried out as they dived and hid behind temporary cover, or ran back to their ships, seeking some form of safe refuge.

As the commotion drew closer to the rebels, the yells and cries of the Stormtroopers, became clearer over the sound of blaster fire.

_“Halt!”_  
“Stop them!”  
“Don’t let the prisoner escape!”  
“Shoot to stun! Agent Kallus wants them alive!”

Astonished and confused, the three rebels looked to one another. They were surprised to see that the Stormtroopers hadn’t even glanced in their direction, before seeking cover behind several large, metal crates. The devices in their ears fizzed to life as a female voice spoke, her voice laced with frantic concern.

“Spectre One, what’s going on? I hear blaster fire.”

“It’s all under control, Spectre Two,” Kanan said, peeking his head over their temporary cover to catch a glimpse at the scene before them. The Stormtroopers had the figure cornered; their only exit, a pair of blaster doors, slid shut as they ran towards it, blocking their escape. “For once, we’re _not_ the ones being shot at.”

“Well that’s a relief. Who _are_ they shooting at?”

“Don’t know yet. Could be a criminal or a slave of the Empire?”

“Or a _potential ally_ ,” Ezra mused in their ears. Kanan rolled his eyes. He could practically feel the young padawan smirking through the radio waves.

Beside him, Zeb broke into a grin as he cocked the blaster on his no-rifle, albeit a touch too enthusiastically, and chuckled darkly. “Doesn’t matter, as long as I get to take out a few bucket heads in the process.”

“Negative, Spectre Four,” Hera cut in. “As much as it hurts me to say this, leave them. Engaging ‘a few bucket heads’ could jeopardise the mission. Find the smuggler first, and then you can help them.”

Sabine scoffed and pressed her back against the cover. Overhead, various ships began to fly out of the dock with haste, their passengers — probably thieves or criminals of the Empire — hoping to avoid the Empire’s blasters and chains. The young woman tried to reason with the voice in her helmet, “But– Spectre Two, we can’t just leave them!“

From the corner of his eye, Kanan spotted a small cargo ship, with a red cross painted on its wing, lift off the ground and fly out of the space station, heading for the far reaches of space. He sighed, lifted his blaster to his chest and raised his other hand, touching the device in his ear. “The smuggler is gone, Spectre Two. The Empire’s presence scared them off,” he spoke, his eyes trained on the scene by the blaster doors. The mysterious, cloaked stranger was putting up a decent fight — grabbing, elbowing, kneeing and head butting every Stormtrooper that dared to reach for them within a one-metre radius — but it didn’t last long. Despite knocking a small, yet considerable number of their attackers unconscious, without a weapon, the stranger was easily swarmed and overpowered with several stun blasts to the back and sides. With a low groan and a thud, the figure fell to the floor, blue electric sparks fizzling over their body.

Taking this as their queue, the three rebels popped up from their cover and jumped to action, firing their blaster at the unsuspecting Stormtroopers. Having been distracted by their target’s comatose state, and reporting their capture to their leaders, the Stormtroopers were quickly dealt with, with minimal resistance. One by one they fell like flies, each trooper falling to the floor with a satisfyingly loud ‘clank’ as their armour hit metal.

When the coast was clear, Kanan and Sabine rushed to check on the cloaked stranger while Zeb watched their backs, bo-rifle at the ready, keeping an eye out for any enemy reinforcements.

As they ventured closer to the stranger, Sabine and Kanan surprised to see how tall the prisoner actually was. Or that they had odd-shaped, yet strangely familiar, purple prehensile feet that poked out from their tattered, grey cloak. Kneeling beside them, Kanan held his breath as he rolled the figure onto their back and pushed back the hood, revealing two large, pointy ears; short purple hair that had been recently shaved; and a feminine grey face with distinct purple markings.

It appeared that they had found another, previously thought-to-be-extinct lasat — and a young female one at that.

“A lasat?!” Sabine gasped from under her helmet. “Here? Of all places?”

“You found a what?!” Ezra exclaimed over the com-link. "Are they alive?!"

“I didn’t think we’d find one so soon after Chava and Gron,” The young woman continued, ignoring the padawan’s excitement. “Do you think she was heading to Lirasan?”

Kanan remained quiet as he placed two fingers against the lasat’s neck, checking for a pulse. When he found it, he exhaled a sigh of relief. “She was probably a prisoner, enslaved to the Empire. My guess is that she found a chance to escape, and took it,” he muttered, his tone sympathetic. 

Hearing quiet, fast-moving padding footsteps behind them, the two humans looked up to see their giant lasat companion behind them. Zeb stared at his fellow lasat on the floor, glass green eyes opened wide and his jaw agape. While it was expected that Zeb would be shocked to find another of his kind, especially so soon after finding two others, Kanan could sense the distinct change in his friend’s heartbeat — fluttering fast and hard. He could hear the lasat’s adam’s apple harsh bob as Zeb struggled to swallow. He could see the way his friend's ears pinned back, against his head, and the hint of confusion in his eyes.

Something was up. This wasn’t just another lasat refugee.

“Zeb?” Kanan said cautiously, casting his friend a concerned look. “You okay?”

The lasat blinked twice before shaking his head. “I– Sorry. It’s just…” Zeb said, still in a state of disbelief. He briefly glanced at Kanan before returning his gaze to the comatose lasat. “It’s like seeing a ghost.”

“What do you mean?” The jedi asked, turning his head to glance at the female on the floor, watching her chest softly rise and fall under the cloak.

Zeb swallowed and softened his expression, his eyes settling on the familiar face. A face he had not seen for some years, and one he had fought he would never see again. Not in this lifetime.

“That’s Habati Boreala.” He said, his tone soft as memories of a time once lost, flooded back. “The second daughter of Sharad Boreala, the last king of Lasan.”


	2. Prologue: Familiar Faces PT:2

Voices, soft but unfamiliar and foreign stirred Habati into consciousness. They sounded young, but not too young. Possibly between pubescent and young adult — though Habati couldn’t be sure. Her head was spinning and her temples were killing her. She could barely think straight, let alone accurately guess the age of the voices she heard.

With a low groan, the lasat blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the fluorescent light that hung above her head. She tried to recall her last moments, but nothing distinctive came to mind, besides the throbbing pain in her back. The lasat laid there, eyelids half closed, listening to her surroundings, trying to figure out her location, and who was nearby. Then, as if on que, black dots and fuzzy shapes of different colours appeared over her, blocking out the blinding light.

“Hey Sabine, did she just groan?” asked the black and tan blur, its voice was distinctly male and reeked of youthful pubescence. “Do you think she’s waking up?”

The other blur, a mix of turquoise, purple and tan, leaned forward. The voice was feminine, with a hint of independence and sass. “Looks like it. Quick Ezra, you’d better get Zeb or Kanan before—“

Two large, purple hands reached up and grabbed the humans by their faces, furry palms pressed against their mouths. Habati shook her head and pinched her eyes shut. Her muscles burned at the sudden movement and she could feel the bruises along her back and sides ache in pain. “ _Karabast_ ,” she hissed through barred teeth, her voice coarse from a lack of hydration. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to stun blasts,” she muttered as she opened her eyes.

The two young humans squirmed under her grip. She frowned, tightening her hold on their jaws ever so slightly. They immediately stopped, exchanged looks between one another, and then looked to Habati. She let out a small sigh of relief. They weren’t Imperials. She wasn’t in the hands of the Empire.

“That’s better,” the lasat grumbled. She winced at the stab of pain in her side as the young male unintentionally pressed his knee against her bruise. “ _Hey_!” She hissed, casting him a glare, “Watch it, or I’ll snap your jaw in two. Got it?”

He swallowed before nodding. Habati then turned her gaze to the young female and raised her brows, silently implying that she follow his example. Without hesitation, the female nodded as well.

Habati let out a sigh. “Good.” Then, pulling them towards her, the lasat lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper and said, “Now, tell me. Where is Avva?.”

* * *

“So… she’s a princess?” Hera asked, spinning her pilot’s chair around to face an anxious Zeb. The male lasat was sitting in one of the passenger chairs in the row behind her, his elbows resting against his knees, and his head in his hands.

Kanan raised an eyebrow, as he leaned against the wall, one foot propped up against the cold steel. He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head as he said, “You mean, ‘ _was_ ’ a princess.”

“No, _love_. She is _still_ a princess.”

“No, Kanan’s right, Hera,” Zeb interjected with a sigh, shaking his head. “You can’t be princess without a kingdom or subjects to govern. And it’s been a while since Lasan had either of those.”

Hera shot Kanan a frown — to which he replied with a smug grin — and continued her argument. “But what about Lirasan? Isn’t she considered a princess there?”

“No– well actually, I’m not sure,” Zeb muttered, considering the thought for a moment. Then he shook his head. “But I doubt it. There may be lasats on Lirasan, but they’d have their own government and political hierarchy. I don’t even know if they have a monarch.” The lasat shrugged his furry shoulders and added, “I didn’t stay long enough to ask. ‘Was too distracted by all the living, breathing lasats.”

“Right. Of course,” Hera sighed, leaning back in her chair.

There was a short silence between the three of them, each staring at the floor or some part of the cockpit, their eyes hazing over as they were each lost in their thoughts.

“Do you know her personally?” Kanan asked, breaking the silence.

Zeb’s eyes flickered up to meet Kanan’s. He paused for a moment and then answered. “Yes,” he breathed, eyes shutting, “She was part of the Lasan Honour Guard. I was also her teacher for a time. She was a good kid.”

“What was a princess doing in the Lasan Honor Guard?” Hera asked. “Wasn’t that dangerous?”

The lasat took a deep breath, pressing both his thumbs against his forehead. It hurt to talk about Lasan, and the Honor Guard. Memories of the tragedies that occurred there, were still fresh in his mind, and overpowered the positive and pleasant. “It’s… It’s tradition for the Lasan royal family to join and be apart of the Honor Guard, for a time. It was something to do with serving others and being a better leader. That kind of crap.”

“She wasn’t the only one either,” Zeb continued. “I also worked beside her brother, Larizet, and…” He swallowed hard and looked to the ground, “her sister, Avva.”

Hera and Kanan exchanged glances and shared a knowing smile, then looked to the lasat. Noticing the sudden silence, Zeb looked up and met their gaze. He immediately frowned. Zeb felt his cheeks begin to burn, and his stomach twist into tiny knots.

“ _W-what_?” He growled defensively, folding his large arms across his chest in response to the suggestive glances they shared between one another. “I– It’s not– _Ah, karabast_!” Zeb swore under his breath as he ran a hand over his face. “It’s difficult to explain, okay?”

“Then, perhaps, you could explain it just a little?” The green twi’lek pleaded, a smile tugging at her lips.

Zeb blinked and swallowed, his cheeks turning a dark purple. If it hadn’t been for Hera’s pleading eyes and Kanan’s encouraging smile, the lasat was sure he would have taken this tidbit of his past to his grave.

“Fine,” he breathed, reaching his hand around to scratch the back of his neck. “Okay. I was…” Zeb paused, considering the right word to use, “ _'close'_ to Habati’s sister, Avva... which may not have pleased the royal council, or her father.”

Hera’s face softened and she cupped her hands around her chin. “ _Aww, Zeb_ ,” she cooed. “It must have been scandalous.”

“You don't know the half of it,” he said, clicking his tongue as he rolled his eyes. “When the King found out, I thought I was good as dead.”

Kanan’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Imagine, the Captain of the Honor Guard, courting a Princess. It’s like one of those saucy love stories for teenage girls. Except with lasats.”

Unimpressed and a touch hurt by his snide comment, Zeb glared at the jedi, then at the twi’lek. “Oh, like you two can talk,” he grunted, his ears pressed back against his head, ignoring the burning sensation returning to his cheeks.

Kanan’s grin faded and he scowled at his friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He growled.

“You know exactly what I mean, _Kanan, ‘the rogue jedi knight_ ,’” Zeb jeered, sitting up in his chair, hands clasped tightly over his knees as he leaned forward.

Kanan pushed himself off the wall, his hands gripping his hips. “Maybe I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me, ‘ _Captain Orellios’._ ”

Hera exhaled a heavy sigh and raised her hands into the air, signalling for the two males to calm themselves. “Okay boys, take the testosterone down a notch. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourselves,” the twi’lek said sarcastically before facing Zeb, giving him her complete attention — while ignoring Kanan’s childish grumbling under his breath. “Sorry Zeb. It’s just… you’ve never really opened up about Lasan, or your past before,” she said, offering him a kind smile. “It’s nice to learn some new things about you.”

The lasat’s gaze drifted to the floor. Hera had a point. The crew, especially her and Kanan, had been accommodating when it came to his privacy. In fact, now that he thought about it, they were all private in their own way. It was like an unspoken rule between the six of them — Chopper included — that no one was to pry into each other's business, especially if the person involved was adamant in their decision to not speak about the matter in question.

Zeb sighed and shook his head. The Ghost’s crew were like family to him — they risked their lives for him, for each other. It wouldn't hurt to divulge his past a little. “Right. Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his face as he slumped back into his chair. “Where do I begin–”

“Hold that thought,” Kanan said, his scowl turning to a smile as he looked to the door. His eyes narrowed, then widened a moment later, before softening to a relaxed state. “Habati’s up,” he said, looking from Hera to Zeb. “The kids and Chopper are giving her a grand tour of the ship, but…”

“What?” Hera asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No, but I am sensing some hostility from our guest. Know why, Zeb?”

Zeb’s mouth pulled into a tight line and he pressed the back of his head into the seat’s head rest. “I have an idea or two,” he muttered as he snapped his eyes shut and sighed. “ _I still can’t believe she’s alive, after all this time..._ ”

The jedi shrugged his shoulders and raised an eyebrow. “Mind filling us in on your beef with her?”

“Not really,” the lasat replied. “Don’t worry though, I’m sure you’ll get an earful of it in a minute.”

* * *

“And that’s my room — well, as well as Zeb’s,” Ezra pointed out as he led Habati through the upper level of the Ghost. "Hey. Was he always so pushy on Lasan?"

The lasat just grunted in reply, not very interested in the tour she was being given by the small human chaperone, or his constant questions about Lasan and the other lasat on the ship. The other small human, the one called ‘Sabine’, followed close behind, her eyes focused squarely on the female lasat’s back. Chopper, the crew's astromech, wheeled along behind her, complaining, like he always did, in binary code.

“ _Bwap bwap bwap, bwa. Bwap bwap_ ,” he beeped, his two little mechanical arms flailing about in the air. “ _Bwa bwa bwap bwap._ ”

Habati gazed at the astromech droid from over her shoulder and cocked a brow. “You do know I can understand you right?” The lasat’s green eyes then darkened, her voice dripping with fury as she added. “ _And that I can easily rip you to pieces_.”

“Just ignore Chopper,” Sabine sighed, rolling her eyes, nudging the droid with her shoulder.

“I think he just has a thing against lasats,” added Ezra.

"No. He has a thing against everyone."

Seemingly unaffected by the lasat's threat, Chopper continued to taunt her, even extending his electroshock rod towards her and setting it alight. “ _Bwap bwa bwap! Bwap bwap bwa!_ ”

Heat rose in Habati’s cheeks at the comment and she spun around to face him. Anger was written across her face as she clenched her fists and spoke through gritted teeth. “Just try me, tin can. Say it again, and I’ll turn you into scrap metal. _I dare you_.”

“ _Chopper_!” Ezra frowned at the droid, keeping him an arms distance away from an enraged Habati. “He’s like this to everyone, honest! We think he’s got his wires crossed or something.”

“ _Bwap bwap! Bwa bwap bwap bwa._ ”

Habati inhaled a deep breath and shook her head, focusing on the door at the end of the hall. “Look, kids — and sassy rust bucket — I just want to speak to the person in charge, okay? Please. You’re all giving me a migraine.”

Ezra blinked and then nodded. “Oh! Right. Sure. They’re just through here.”

As they closed the distance between themselves and the door, the panels of metal slid open, revealing the cockpit. For a long moment, Habati stared at the two large purple ears that instinctively flickered backwards, and at the head they were attached too, before turning her attention to the tall human and the green twi’lek at the helm.

“Glad to see you’re finally awake, Miss Boreala. Welcome to the Ghost,” the twi’lek greeted with a polite smile as she stood up. “I’m Hera, and this is Kanan.” The tall human with the beard and ponytail waved and gave her a smile — not a polite smile like the twi’lek’s, but an amused smile, like he was thinking of a funny joke or scenario. Habati held back the urge to roll her eyes — she had a feeling she was the brunt of said joke.

Habati’s lip tightened and turned downward, her eyes flicking to the back of the purple head, then back to Hera. “I see you’ve already been informed of my identity. How polite of you, _Captain_ ,” she gritted out, anger very much present in her voice. “ _Always the gentleman._ ”

A heavy sigh emanated from the purple head as it’s owner, stood up from his seat. Standing to his full height, which was half-a-head taller than Habati, Zeb gave his fellow lasat a polite, but forced nod. “Glad to see you're alive too, Habati.”

Habati’s green eyes narrowed as she glowered up at him. She was surprised he hadn’t changed much, appearance wise at least. Neither had she for that matter, but other lasats she had met, had not been as lucky. After an intense moment of staring and glaring between them, Habati turned her attention back to Kanan and Hera, her expression unchanging.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, as she slowly walked towards the twi’lek captain. “I need a ride.”

Hera raised a brow and glanced at Kanan — who caught her eye and shrugged his shoulders — before saying, “You certainly don’t waste time, do you, Miss Boreala?”

“No. Not when my sister’s life is at stake. And it's 'Habati',” she snapped, barring her canines. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen what happens to a lasat in Imperial custody," Habati snarled, shaking her head. "But they don't last very long.”

Zeb's eyes widened as he stepped forward, grabbing Habati by the shoulder, spinning her around. “ _Wait! Avva’s_ … She’s alive as well? _How?!_ ” He asked frantically, his eyes searching hers. Habati frowned at the purple hand on her shoulder.

“Yes she is, no thanks to you,” she spat, shoving him off. “Look, I’m not sure on the details on her escape, exactly, but you can ask her after _I_ free her.”

Kanan stepped forward and tilted his head to the side. “So you know where her transport ship is headed?” He asked, giving the lasat a questioning gaze.

"Well... No. We were caught together, but they split us up,” Habati explained, tapping her forearm impatiently . “From what I overheard, I was to be sent to a slave labour facility in the Outer Rim. But Avva…” She paused and shook her head. “ _No_. They wouldn’t make her a slave.”

“Why not?” Sabine asked, speaking up as she joined the circle, Ezra following beside her. “Why bother splitting you up at all? Are lasats still that much of a threat to the Empire?”

Zeb frowned at the floor, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “No. It would be about setting an example. Like what happened on Lasan," he growled.

“Do you think she’s being held as a political prisoner?” He then asked Habati, looking up from the metal floor panels. “Y'know, with her being royalty and all?”

“Possibly.”

“But I thought you said she wasn’t a princess anymore,” Hera said.

“Well, technically speaking, we were talking about Habati,” Kanan interjected, gesturing towards their guest. “But you have a point.”

Habati glanced at Zeb, frowned, then looked back to Kanan. “Look, I don’t have time to discuss Lasan’s politics to all of you, so I’ll make this short. After our father’s death, Avva was expected to inherit the throne,” she explained with accompanying hand gestures and waves. “But she refused to rule solely by herself, and instead, relied heavily on those around her to help make decisions that would benefit our war effort. A grand council, if you will. So no, she was never _officially_ instated as the next ruler of Lasan.”

“So, you’re basically saying that she was a Queen, but not?” Ezra asked, casting them all a confused look.

“Not exactly, kid,” Zeb butt in. He sighed and rolled his shoulders. “She wasn’t coronated — this was during a war, and we didn’t have the time or recourses for a proper ceremony, so she was only a Queen in name, not in legislation."

"But in saying that, the only one’s who knew of Lasan’s political state were Avva herself, Habati, me, a half-dozen Honor Guards, and a small number of royal advisors. Everyone else assumed that Avva was in control, but really, she was more of a symbol. A face of the council, for the people to see," he added.

“But why keep it a secret?” Sabine inquired, leaning against Chopper — who voiced his discomfort, but was quickly shushed by Hera.

“We didn’t intend too,” Habati sighed, rubbing her neck as she licked her dry lips. “It just sort of happened that way. Besides, changing the government of Lasan from a monarchy to a democracy would have confused the public, and at the time, things were already fairly hectic.”

Kanan pondered this for a moment, stroking the hair on his chin. “And I’m guessing the Empire assumed she was ruler as well?”

“Most likely, if they could remember that far back,” Habati nodded. The lasat then sighed and rubbed her temples as she growled, her teeth barred. “Now are we done talking and reminiscing about Lasan? Because I’d really, _really_ like to rescue my sister while she’s still alive.”


	3. Prolouge (End)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH. I never expected the prologue to be so long, so sorry about that! Also thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this — I'm honoured :')

Avva pressed her head against the cool metal as she leaned against the confines of her cell. The room was tiny and dark, with only the flickering red and yellow coloured lights, scattered across the walls, to keep her company. She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling the hairs that made up the bun of her undercut styled hair, strain and compress as they were pushed up against the wall. She had lost track of how long she had been in the cell — minutes had turned into hours, and hours had melted into days — for all she knew, several weeks had past. But she doubted it.

The amount of food the guards had provided her, was pitiful. Not even a small rodent could survive on the rationed portions for a few weeks. Avva was surprised she had made it this far without keeling over and dying.

Ignoring the grumble of her stomach and the dryness of her throat, the lasat tried to relax, and focus her mind. She was not close to the Ashla, or ‘force-sensitive’ as some would call it, but she believed in it, as much as any other lasat did. A small smile tugged at her lips — well maybe not her sister, but Habati never really believed in anything, especially what the lasat shamans had tried to teach her when she was just a small cub. Avva forced away her smile and strained her ears, as if that would hasten the process. Though it seemed a little redundant, considering the situation she was in, she always hoped the Ashla would speak to her, and guide her in her greatest moments of need, as it had done for the shamans and those who the Ashla had spoken too.

> ‘ _But_ ,’ she heard her sister say, in that childish, defiant tone of hers when they crossed a busy street in Hammertown, Takobo, ‘ _where was the Ashla when we needed guidance on Lasan? We had so many questions, and not one answer was given. The Ashla let our people die. The shamans were wrong._ ’
> 
> Avva sighed and shook her head. ‘ _We can’t expect the Ashla to snatch us up and protect us from harm, Habati. It guides us and opens new paths for us,_ ’ she said, trying to reason with her younger sibling. ' _Not lead us by the hand like a cub._ '
> 
> ‘ _But what’s the point if it lets an entire race die out? What’s its purpose if it has no one left to guide?_ ’
> 
> Avva cast her sister an unamused look. ‘ _Oh, I don’t know Habati!_ ’ she grumbled, throwing her arms into the air in frustration, gaining a few raised brows from passersby, ‘ _I’m not a mystic or a shaman! You know I can’t answer those questions!_ ’
> 
> ‘ _Well you sound like a shaman, the way you talk so fondly about the Ashla!_ ’
> 
> ‘ _Oh karabast– Well you sound like a cub who has barely passed 10 dust seasons!_ ’
> 
> Habati gasped, eyes dramatically wide. Then they narrowed as she poked hard at her sister’s chest. ‘ _Rude!_ ’ she said, trying to hide her smirk under her fake scowl. _'I am at least ten-and-a-half dust seasons, thank you very much.'_
> 
> Avva couldn't help but flash her sister a wide smile as they took a turn down another long street. Tall buildings surrounded them; metal, square aparment complexes, and other buildings that reached high into the sky. Speeders of all shapes and colours flew past, above their heads. All different sights and sounds that she and Habati had become somewhat accustomed to since leaving Lasan.
> 
> Passing Ithorians spared them a few glances, but did not stare for long. One lasat was uncommon enough in this part of the system, but two lasats were rare, and even rarer if they were travelling together. Habati grumbled, ducking her head down, keeping it close to her chest, as if the action could hide her unique, unmistakable appearance.
> 
> ‘ _Do they have to stare? It always feels like there’s something stuck in my teeth when they stare,_ ’ Habati hissed as she picked at her teeth with a claw.
> 
> ’ _That’s probably because you’ve got something stuck in there_ ,’ Garazeb laughed. ‘ _Heh_.  _Right Avva?_ ’
> 
> Avva blinked in surprise. Garazeb? But… _How?_
> 
> Her brow knitted together into a frown. This wasn’t right. Garazeb wasn’t there. He couldn’t be. They hadn’t seen him in person since Lasan had fallen.
> 
> Sure, they had seen his face since then, on the Empire’s HoloNet. They said he was a criminal, a rebel, fighting against the Empire — which had not surprised her in the least when she had first heard it — she would have been more concerned if she had heard otherwise. But that was on Lothal, some years after this memory had occurred.
> 
> “ _Avva?_ ”
> 
> Then why could she hear his voice, as clear as day?
> 
> “ _Avva._ ”
> 
> It just wasn’t possible.
> 
> “ _Spectre Five! Now!_ ”
> 
> Wait… that wasn’t her name—
> 
> **_BOOM_ **
> 
> The ground beneath her began to shake, and black smoke began to pour out from the cracks in the ground. She reached out to him, and to Habati, but they were out of reach. She opened her mouth and called their names, but no sound came out. Avva began to panic — her heart was racing and beating against her rib cage. She couldn’t breathe. Everything was crumbling around her.
> 
> It was happening again. Like back on Lasan.
> 
> Blaster fire. She could hear blaster fire. But why? All of this wasn’t part of her memory!

“Avva!” She heard her sister call, her voice clearer than before.

“Wake up!”

Avva felt a hard whack to her cheek and groaned as she was brought back to consciousness. Her eyelids flickered open. Grey smoke and the smell of burning metal surrounded her, assaulting her senses. In the background, over the sound of the ringing in her ears, was blaster fire. Two kinds, from different factions.

Her face scrunched into a confused and slightly terrified grimace. Memories of Lasan flooded back to her, and she felt her chest tighten in fright. _What was happening? Where was she? She couldn’t be back on Lasan… could she?_

The sudden stinging phantom pain in her arm brought her thoughts back to reality. She let out a sharp gasp and pressed a hand against the stub where her forearm was once connected to. No, this wasn’t Lasan. But she was still in danger.

Avva felt another hard tap to her face, and she lolled her head to the side, her confused expression turning to a frown as she looked up at Habati.

She coughed as she opened her mouth to speak, smoke and fumes filling her lungs. “What are you doing here?” Avva managed to grit out in between coughs, her frown still locked in place. “What happened to your hair?”

“Avva! You’re alive!” Habati exclaimed, a sense of joy flickered in her eyes, before returning to their serious state. “There’s no time to explain,” the younger lasat stated, slinging her sister’s arm over her shoulder as she wrapped a firm arm around Avva’s waist. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

Avva held back the urge to argue with her sibling, and nodded — Habati was right — there was no time. She tried to stand, leaning into her sister. It hurt to move. Her captors had given her no special treatment, in fact they had been rather rough with her. Not only had they removed her cybernetic arm without sedating her, or providing some sort of pain suppressant, but her body was also malnourished and the joints in her knees wobbled as she moved her legs. After taking a hurried step, Avva landed on her foot awry, bone pressing hard against flesh, almost piercing through skin. She gritted her teeth and let out a harsh growl from deep within her throat.

“ _Karabast!_ ” She swore through clenched teeth as Habati pushed her forward, up a tiny set of steps, towards the door. “Stop, Habati!” She snapped. “My foot! You’ll break my foot in half!”

“Oh suck it up!” Her sister hissed back. “You’ve already lost one limb, what difference does it make if you loose another?”

“A lot actually,” Avva snarled. “Just go slowly up the steps, okay?”

“We don’t have the time to go slowly!” Habati retorted angrily, before muttering softly, under a shallow breath. “This is it. This is how we die.”

“Quick, pass her to me,” a familiar voice growled. A large purple hand pushed through the heavy cloud of smoke that lingered around the open door, and reached out towards them. Avva stared at the hand, her round green eyes widening. No. It couldn’t be… _Was she still dreaming?_

The voice spoke again. “Spectre One, I’m going to need some cover fire.”

“Copy that, Spectre Four,” a male voice called, somewhere nearby, over the blaster fire.

Avva’s heart stopped as her sister begrudgingly passed her over to the hand. The hand, warm and strong, clutched her upper arm and pulled her through the smoke. Then, before Avva could catch a glimpse of his face, another hand grabbed her waist, and hoisted her over his shoulder, her belly slamming against armoured plating. Avva spluttered a cough at the impact, her toes curling in pain.

“Heh. Sorry,” Zeb chuckled meekly as he adjusted her weight on his shoulder before breaking into a sprint as he ran down the long, narrow hall with Habati, and three humans she didn’t recognise, at his heels.

Habati had the darkest of scowls on her face as she matched his long strides, an E-11 blaster rifle held tightly in her hands. An unusual weapon of choice — Avva thought, bitting back her urge to cry aloud as pain shot through her body as she bounced around on Zeb’s shoulder — a weapon, Habati most likely gained from an unconscious Stormtrooper. Avva had a small moment of pity for the unlucky soldier. Habati rarely showed any mercy for the Empire, even for the men who were only following orders. Not that Avva could really blame her; the younger lasat was filled with an unchanneled anger — a rage for the loss of her people, and her home world. And a well-placed anger at that.

She was young and reckless, often letting her emotions cloud her rational judgement, which more of often than not, led to spirited encounters of the physical, assaulting kind. She was a lot like Garazeb in that respect, though Avva would never say such a statement aloud; not if she wanted to keep her other arm whole and intact.

Avva grimaced as Zeb took a sharp corner down another hall, her heavily bruised side slamming against the side of his neck. She let out a low groan, grounded out through clenched canines, followed by a long string of curses in her mother tongue — the words ‘karabast’ and ‘Garazeb Orrelios’ sprinkled in between.

* * *

Zeb almost tripped over his feet, forgetting where he was, and that there were several armed Stormtroopers chasing after him, and his comrades. And all because of her, and her damn perfect pronunciation of their native language – Lasat. Hearing her voice, rolling the ‘r’s in his name and the long line of cuss words she swore under her breath, close to his ear, sent a shiver down his spine.

Karabast! Karabast!

“Karabast!” He growled from deep in his throat, tightening his hold on her legs, his nails pressing hard into her skin. His bo-rifle, slung across his back, thumped against his body armour as he ran. Zeb knew he should have reprimanded her for using his name out in the open, for almost revealing his identity to the enemy, but he couldn’t. One: there was no time — they were far to busy running from the Stormtrooper blaster fire that nipped at their heels; and two: it was almost worth it, just to hear his name spoken correctly, for once, in a language he thought he’d never hear again.

Zeb took another sharp turn, using his free arm to steady himself against the oncoming wall, preventing any mishap. Behind him, Kanan, who was bringing up the rear of their small escape party, ignited his lightsaber and stabbed a nearby control panel, forcing the doors to close in on the oncoming squad of Stormtroopers. His ear’s flickered at the sound of Avva’s loud gasp, and he held back the sudden urge to groan and roll his eyes.

“A Jedi?!” She exclaimed with a coarse, dry voice. “You’re traveling with—“ Avva gasped again as her eyes snapped to Ezra, who was also wielding a lightsaber. “Two Jedi?! Wha—I—How?!”

Although he couldn’t see her expression, Zeb could only guess that she was in a state of disbelief as she continued to ramble on and say, “I can’t believe you found two Jedi. Two! Two actual Jedi! How did you even manage that?”

“Well, actually, they found me–“ Zeb began to say, before he was interrupted by Sabine, who nudged him hard with her shoulder as she dashed past, taking the lead to scout ahead.

“Hey! Less chatting, more running, Spectre Four,” she called over her shoulder, her voice muffled behind her mask.

A simple, short-breathed, ‘yeah’ was all he could manage before Sabine came to a stop at the next corner. She held her hand up, toward the group, signalling them to stop. Zeb swallowed and slowed his pace, till he too came to a stop, with Ezra, Habati and Kanan following his lead. He leaned over the young Mandalorian, and peeked out from behind their cover.

He groaned softly and shook his head. Stormtroopers. About a dozen or so, armed to the teeth, blocking their only access between the Transport ship and their starfighter's, the Ghost. Zeb knew there would be some resistance, but the hall was narrow and cover-less, leaving them only a few options and little room for error.

“Karabast!” Zeb swore angrily, as he ducked again, narrowly missing a Stormtrooper’s line of sight. “What do we do now?”

“They’re blocking the only route to the ship,” Ezra muttered as he stood beside the male lasat, panting in between sentences. “This isn’t good.”

“Fantastic,” Habati hissed as she leaned against the wall between Ezra and Kanan, blaster cocked and ready to fire. “Let’s just ambush them and get it over with. We can take them!”

“It’s risky,” Kanan said, shaking his head as he moved to the front of the group, leaning over Sabine so he could catch a glimpse of the blockade of Stormtroopers.

“And not to mention suicidal,” Ezra added, shaking his head. “Without any cover, we’re good as dead.”

“Not if we can create our own cover,” Sabine piped up, a small smoke explosive nestled gently in her palm.

Smirking, Zeb nodded at the young woman. One could always count on Sabine to have a trick or two up her sleeve when you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. The unspoken plan between the five of them seemed like their simplest and best bet of getting off the Transport Ship without a scratch.

Habati frowned, shaking her head. “No. No more explosives,” she growled, her eyes darting up to meet Avva’s. Zeb’s brows raised as he heard the lasat on his shoulder let out a soft sigh, piquing his interest. For as long as he had known Avva, he never knew her to have a problem with explosives. He had thought it was strange when Habati had showed mild concern over the bombs Sabine had placed on Avva’s cell door. He thought it had been about alerting the enemy, but he had been wrong. It was to do with Avva. But why? Unless…

“Habati, it’s fine,” Avva spoke softly, flashing her sister a reassuring smile. “It’s only a smoke bomb. I… I’ll be alright.”

The younger lasat gave her sister a long hard look before rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she huffed, “Let’s just get off this ship already.”

Without needing anymore reassurance, Sabine initiated the small, circular device in her hand and rolled it towards the cluster of Stormtroopers while keeping out of sight. The smoke explosive rolled forward down the hall, rhythmically beeping as its internal clock ticked down the seconds. A few Stromtroopers, noticing the device, stepped forward to investigate, but by the time they recognised its shape and design, it was too late. As the beeping’s tempo increased to an alerting level, small crevasses expanded and a light grey smoke began to pour out from the device. The surrounding Stormtroopers coughed and spluttered as smoke filled the hall, obstructing their vision. Seizing their chance, the rebels, and their newest companions, made a run for it, knocking down and disarming a few Stormtroopers down for good measure. Habati even spent a few seconds longer kicking a defenceless Stormtrooper in the gut, while the smoke began to clear, disappearing into the air events in the roof.

“Habati! Leave him be!” Avva snapped as she wiggled about on Zeb’s shoulder, causing him to flinch and snarl as he struggled to maintain a firm grip on the lasat.

With a groan and a roll of her eyes, Habati kicked the unconscious soldier one last time before sprinting to catch up with the rebels. She flashed her sister a content smile, which was only met by a harsh frown.

“Ugh. You’re the worst,” Avva grumbled, shaking her head as Zeb and the others entered the hangar. Sabine, Ezra and Kanan exchanged looks of baffled amusement as they ran towards the Ghost. Once in view of the cockpit, the ship’s cargo door began to lower. But before they could make a move to board, Stormtrooper reinforcements arrived and began to fire. Then Hera’s voice emerged over the rebel’s com-link.

Her tone was relieved, but firm. “Hurry it up, Spectre One, you have Stormtroopers on your tail!”

“Understood, Spectre Two. Tell Spectre Three to get a med-kit ready. Our newest addition injured themselves on the way here,” Kanan replied as he and Ezra turned to face their opponents, blocking blaster bullets with their lightsabers, with Sabine and Habati providing supporting fire, as they all hurried up the ramp into the cargo bay of the Ghost.

“Copy that Spectre One.”

Once safe inside, Zeb immediately carried the injured lasat on his shoulder to the common room, side-stepping a flailing armed Chopper, who made his disapproval of their new addition — and an another lasat at that — well-known, and snatched the medkit from his clampers.

“Can it, you old rust bucket,” Zeb snapped as the doors slid open and he ducked underneath the archway. Behind him, Kanan, Sabine and Ezra rushed through on their way to the cockpit and gun turrets. Quickly placing Avva down on a seat, the medkit at her side, Zeb turned to leave but paused when he felt a hand touch his arm. He sighed.

“I have to—“

“Thank you,” Avva said firmly, her voice parched and cracked. Zeb glanced over his shoulder to see her lips curve upwards into a soft smile. Her eyes expressing how happy she was to see her old friend, whom she had feared she would never see again. He felt his own lips curl into a lop-sided grin before he turned away and climbed up the nearby ladder to the second floor, disappearing from sight.


	4. Twenty Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safe out of the Empire's grasp once again, the Spectre Crew and their two passengers finally have a chance to relax and talk. Well everyone except for Chopper, who is left grumbling in a corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait? University started up again and I've been having second thoughts on this piece n u n;;  
> BUT, I'll continue it for now and see where it goes??  
> This is a smaller chapter then the others. It was originally going to be longer, but I've decided to give the second half it's own chapter instead.  
> ALSO, I just want to remind everyone that most of the descriptions of Lasan and the ways of the Lasat are theoretical and are based on my own reasoning and information found on the Star Wars Wiki (Canon and Legends), so they should only be taken with a grain of salt. \\_(ツ)_/

“Stop squirming, Avva,” Habati huffed, dabbing at her sister’s bruises with an antiseptic patch. Avva flinched and bit her lip, turning her head away as the patch was pressed against her neck. The patch smelt strongly of medicinal herbs and solutions, which for creatures with heightened solutions – like lasats – was enough to give Avva a headache. She fluttered her eyelids and shook her head, trying to keep herself from passing out from the smell.

Avva ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth and clicked it against the back of her teeth. “Ugh, it stinks. I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll actually get some shut-eye for once,” the younger lasat said softly under her breath as she placed another patch on Avva’s fur. When she flinched a second time, Avva noticed the corner of Habati’s lips turn downwards. A pang of guilt stabbed Avva’s gut; she always hated when she caused Habati grief, directly or not.

“Sorry,” Habati muttered softly as her hands fell into the medkit in her lap. Her deft fingers rummaged through its contents, while her eyes avoided her sister’s face.

Avva blinked and turned to face her sister. “For?”

“The plan failed because of me. If I hadn’t gotten caught, I could have gotten you out of there a lot sooner and—”

“Ahh,” Avva nodded slowly, cutting her sister off with a wave of her hand. The pieces of the puzzle were all coming together. “I told you, you should have stayed on the ship. Played it safe.”

“I know.”

“Well, at least this explains the hair,” she said, wincing slightly as she reached up and tapped the top of her sister’s shaven dome, the small, pointy hairs bristled against her large fingers, tickling her skin. It looked strange to see Habati with no hair. When they were younger, she always wore her hair long, kept up in a bun – just like her mother – but now she looked like the males of their race. The sudden thought caused her to grinned wickedly at Habati. She chuckled, “And how you wound up in the company of Garazeb and this lovely crew.”

Habati frowned. “Don’t remind me,” she seethed, her teeth clenched tightly. “I can’t believe out of all the lasats still alive in this galaxy, he’s the one we run into! I would have rather bumped into Chava, _‘the wise’_ , a dozen times over then see him!”

“Wow that’s harsh Habati, considering how much you detested Lady Chava when you were a child,” Avva continued, her eyes roaming around the common room, taking in the small, yet cosy space. It was almost akin to the common room that was a part of the small freighter they manned. Above them, through the ceiling, she could hear wall-muffled shouting and banter over the sounds of fire from the galactic dogfight going on outside. She was thankful that the ship had an ace pilot, and an adept crew, or they would all be floating lifelessly with imploded heads and lungs, drifting off into the far reaches of the universe. A small smile tugged at her tired face; it was just like Garazeb to delve headfirst into a fight, and she was glad to see that part of him hadn’t changed in the years that had passed.

“But you know, you should cut him some slack.”

Habati snapped her head to face her sister, a scowl forming on her brow.

“What happened on Lasan is in the past—“

“I can’t believe you still want to forgive him, even after all that happened,” Habati snarled as she forcefully slapped another patch against her sister’s bruised fur. Any consideration for her sister’s well-being now blinded by anger and rage. “I’ll never forgive him for embarrassing you like that. _Ever_.”

Avva stared at her sister, ignoring the stinging pain on her upper arm from the hard slap. She watched as Habati’s chest raised and fell rapidly; her nostrils flared, and the muscles in her arms and hands tensed. So much misplaced hate for one man; Avva couldn’t understand it, even after all this time, but yet, she couldn’t blame her sister for feeling that way. It had been a challenging and awkward situation for all of them, at the time. Avva sighed. She only wished her sister could let go and forgive.

“Habati,” she said softly, leaning towards her sister, looking deeply into her green eyes. Her knuckles brushed softly against her sister’s cheek, ghosting along the ridges of her cheekbones. “You know he wasn’t at fault – _I was_.”

“No! He was the one who—“

“He was only following orders, Habati.”

The younger lasat snarled and turned away from her sister’s touch and slammed the lid of the medkit laying in her lap. “I still won’t ever forgive him.”

Avva sighed, shaking her head. There was no reasoning with Habati. She was a true Lasat through and through — a warrior, stubborn to the bone, with a passionate and well-meaning heart. But she was immature; her judgement of the Ex-Honour Guard Captain was shrouded in cloudy, biased memories.

“Fine, but please at least try to be civil?” Avva whispered, as she felt the familiar feeling of being pulled into hyperspace — her stomach turned and twisted, while her head was spinning, twirling around in circles — a sign that the galactic dogfight outside had ceased for the moment. It wouldn’t be long until they would be joined by the ship’s crew, and any chance for a private discussion would be lost. “We still need to find a way back to Kork and Freckles.”

Habati grumbled something derogatory and rude about Garazeb under her breath, before sighing dramatically. Then she nodded her head and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll be nice.”

“Good,” Avva said, attempting to stand, her hand holding onto the table for support. Her arm wobbled under her weight, her muscles still weak from the lack of nutrients and care, causing the sturdy table to tremor a little. “Now help me up. I want to thank this crew properly for all they’ve done. Maybe even give them something in return.”

Habati cast her sister a questioning look as she held her steady, one hand on her back. “How? We have no credits on us, and I doubt Korkie will be willing to share any of his – if we even can get in contact with him.”

“Oh. I’m sure we’ll find some way to repay them.”

 

* * *

 

“So what does ‘Karabast’ mean?” Ezra asked as he leaned over the table, a twinkle of childish curiosity in his eye. It was a question that had been bugging him since he had first heard the word leave Zeb’s lips during his first few weeks on the Ghost. He had asked the lasat time and time again, but the answer was always vague and didn’t shine any light onto its meaning. But now, he wasn’t the only lasat on board.

The two female lasat looked at each other with raised brows, then glanced to Zeb, and then back to him. They were stunned, though the one called Avva seemed a touch more amused then her sister. Her lips curved at the edges, a tiny glint of white teeth peeking from behind.

Unable to pay the crew with credits or anything substantial for their troubles — even if they could, Ezra figured Hera and Kanan would have outright refused — Ezra had asked if they could tell them about the Lasat and their home on Lasan. Avva seemed happy to oblige, while Habati, and Zeb, seemed to flinch and groan at the request. The subject of their home, and they ways of their people, was obviously a touchy subject for the both of them, but not one they had yet to openly refuse.

“That’s your first question? Out of all the questions you could ask — you want to know what ‘Karabast’ means?” Habati asked, her nose crinkling in confusion. “Seriously?”

“I do too, actually,” Sabine piped up, nodding at Ezra. He grinned at her and returned the nod. Sabine had been on the ship far longer than he, so naturally she was as curious about the word, if not more.

“It’s just a Lasat cuss word,” Zeb said, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh,” Ezra said, the light in his eyes deflating a little. He would have been lying if he said he didn’t hope that it’s meaning was something filthy beyond belief. What was the point in using it otherwise?

There was a moments silence. Then Avva smiled. “It translates to ‘faeces’, if I remember correctly.”

“So… _‘shit’?_ Well that’s not that bad—“

“Ezra!” Kanan and Hera scolded in unison, frowning at the teen. He grinned at them and rubbed the back of his neck.

“What?”

“Watch your language,” Kanan huffed, casting the teen a glare.

Avva let out a soft, breathless laugh before keeling over, her hand holding her belly. The odd reaction sent many brows raising around the room, except for Habati and Zeb. Habati rolled her eyes, before pushing off against the bit of wall she was leaning on, and walked over to her sister, checking to see if she hadn’t injured herself. Zeb, on the other hand, seemed to have relaxed. His shoulders loosened and fell as he sat back in the seat; his expression had softened, from the lines in the corner of his eyes, to the wrinkles in his forehead. Hell, his lips had even quirked into a small smile — not the impish lop-sided grin he usually wore. Ezra raised an eyebrow. He had never seen Zeb pull that face before. Or if he had, he never noticed it.

Sitting back up, Avva winced in pain, but kept her smile as she swatted her sister’s hand away, muttering under her breath that she was ‘fine’. Once settled again, the lasat looked to Ezra. She nodded her head towards him, urging him to ask another question. “And?”

"Huh?"

"Your next question?"

“Oh. Uh…” Ezra fumbled, racking his mind for a question. “What… what was Lasan like? I mean, you don’t have to go into full detail, if you don’t want too, just a small—“

“How about I tell you a few things about it? Hmm? I mean we would be here for weeks if I told you everything,” Avva chuckled.

“Yeah, sure. That works.”

The lasat’ smile softened and formed a neutral line as she considered her answer. She closed her eyes for a second and drew a breath. “Well,” she spoke, “I guess I could tell you some of what I remember about Lasan.” She cleared her throat, her fingers tucking stray hairs behind her ear. “Which is a lot actually, now that I think about it.”

“Okay,” Ezra spoke, shrugging his shoulders, “What did it look like?”

“Hmm. Dry. Lasan was very dry. Most of the terrain was made up of sand plains and desert.”

“Sand plains? Wouldn’t that be a desert too, though?” Sabine cut in.

Avva tilted her head and her eyes looked to the ceiling for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Imagine a grass plain, but with more sand and dirt — orange-red coloured dirt — than grass or trees. There was still vegetation and fauna, just not a lot of it in comparison to the sand and dirt.”

“Oh.”

“We also had a few mountains, but they were mostly ranges bordering the Wastes.”

“The Wastes?”

Habati grunted and reached into her small pouch, attached to the belt around her waist, and retrieved a single stick of chalk. “Avva, catch,” she muttered, throwing the white chalk to her sister. “This’ll go along quicker if you just draw the bloody thing.” Catching it with ease, Avva beamed a wide smile as she twirled the stick between her fingers, white chalk dust staining her palm.

“Thanks,” she said, turning her attention to Hera. “Do you mind if I draw on your floor?”

Hera’s lips twitched into a smile as she nodded. “Be my guest.”

Slowly shifting from the corner of the curved seat to the floor, Avva rested her back against the edge of the table and crossed her legs, sitting on her feet. Chalk in hand, the lasat began to draw a map. Ezra moved from his seat to kneel at her side to watch her, while the others leaned over the table, still sitting in their seats. Her lines were crooked and shaky, and her hand wobbled each time she dragged the chalk across the floor, but the map was readable, if not a bit crude.

“This,” she said, tapping the chalk against a drawing of horizontal squiggles and wavy lines, “is what we called ‘The Wastes’ — inhabitable desert and cracked earth that spanned for almost a third of Lasan. Violent winds would pick up sand from The Wastes and spread them right across Lasan in a series of sand storms that could last for months on end. We called this the ‘Dust Season’, and we used it to measure the passing of time.”

"Huh?"

"She means it's how we told what year it was," Zeb explained, his arms folded across his chest. "Each time a lasat survived a dust season, they were considered a 'year older'."

"Then how old does that make you, Zeb?" Kanan teased, a sly smirk on his lips. "100 dust seasons?" Beside him, Hera rolled her eyes and nudged his side, though it did little to falter his smile.

Frowning as his ears pressed back against his skull, Zeb snorted and hunched his shoulders together. "Shut it, Kanan." 

Ignoring the heated staring contest behind her, Avva moved her finger on to a set of vertical lines that sat beside the drawing of the Wastes, and smiled. “And this is the ‘Boosahn Cliffs’, or Warrior Cliffs; mountain ranges that bordered The Wastes, protecting our settlements and villages from the dangers that came from the desert.”

Ezra looked up from the drawing, his eyes wide. “What kind of dangers?” He asked curiously.

“Well the desert itself for starters — as a whole, it’s incredibly dangerous to go there without the proper equipment or experience. Any novice wouldn’t last a few days in there. Then there were the sand storms and the winds, but there were also these giant worms called—“

“Joopas?” Ezra asked, his eyes widening. The lasat blinked in surprised and nodded her head.

“Joopas.” Avva repeated, letting the word roll on her tongue. “That’s one name for them, but you might be confused with something else—”

Ezra took the stick of chalk that had gone limp in her hand, and drew an equally crude drawing of the Joopas he had seen on Seelos. As he drew, Avva looked on, her smile widening as the image ‘came to life’. Though he was no artist — no one could hold a candle to Sabine’s talent for the arts — Ezra made sure to add the distinguishable crown of eyes and the worm’s outstretched tongue, even adding a tiny Zeb clutched in its grip. The drawing’s look-a-like let out an exasperated groan from the back of the group and rolled his eyes, but did not openly object to the image.

“The Joopas on Lasan didn’t have that many eyes, but it’s a close match,” Avva said nodding her head before tapping a finger at the crude drawing of Zeb. “So am I right in assuming there's a story behind Zeb and the worm?”

Ezra grinned wickedly and nodded. “You bet there is.”

“He was helping out some friends of ours who were Joopa fishing,” Sabine added nonchalantly, waving her hand in the air, while her other arm leaned against the back of the curved seat. “By being the bait.”

Avva’s face paled to a light violet in colour. With alarm in her eyes, she spun her head around to face Zeb, her mouth agape in shock. “Please tell me they’re joking, Garazeb.”

Avoiding her face, and ignoring the chorus of childish snickering in the background, Zeb swallowed and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, technically speaking, no, but—“

“Ashla guide me! Garazeb! You complete and utter garbashog!” Avva exclaimed as she snatched the chalk from Ezra’s fingers and flung it, with acute accuracy, at Zeb’s face, hitting him in the tiny space between his brows. “Did you forget the stories?! Or just forget the one time we saw one on Lasan?”

“What? _Ok, so I forgot that one time—_ ”

“ _Oh of all the—_ “

“Wait! You saw one on Lasan?” Ezra interrupted, grinning widely like crazed a lothcat. “Did Zeb almost get eaten then too?”

“No, he didn't,” Avva muttered, clicking her tongue.

Habati grinned, tilting her head to the side. “It’s surprising, considering how thick he can be.” Zeb cast the younger lasat a glare as he rubbed away the white chalk mark on his brow.

Finding the exchange between the lasats amusing, Ezra beamed at the rest of the Spectre Crew. Kanan and Hera, while barely participating in the conversation, appeared to be as amused as they sat together, side-by-side, quietly observing. Sabine looked content, if not a little cautious, as she was when in the company of strangers; and Chopper was in the corner, grumbling to himself.

“So?” Ezra spoke up, turning his bright blue eyes back to Avva. “What happened?”

Avva blinked rapidly for a moment, before her lips spread into a smile. “Well, it all started on a particularly hot day…”


End file.
